


You Were Only Waiting

by Allthephils



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Airports, Coffee Shops, M/M, Mental Health Mentions, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allthephils/pseuds/Allthephils
Summary: Dan’s stranded at the airport and stuck in his own head. Phil’s just looking for some company.A fic about delayed flights and delayed connections





	You Were Only Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Phandom Reverse Bang, inspired by art by the talented @lovelydeps on Tumblr.  
> Enjoy!

 

Dan’s flight is delayed just enough that he’s uncharacteristically on time. It has improved his mood from incredibly irritable to very annoyed but still, this trip was exhausting. New York is cool but there are just so many people and he’s drained. He’d rather be alone with the friends coming through his headphones than fielding questions from his Uber driver. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that headphones mean no talking. Janelle and Kevin and Troye understand, they don’t ask anything of Dan. 

 

He’s never been so relieved to step out of a car. The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, bringing a magical beauty to this decidedly mundane setting. Unfortunately, inside it’s still an airport. He watches his feet as they carry him across the ugly airport carpet to the end of the security queue. It’s a mess, a labyrinth of twists and turns that feels unending. It does end though and Dan goes through the motions by rote. Laptop out, shoes off, little baggie of travel toiletries into the tray. He stands in the scanner, arms above his head and the TSA agent nods and waves him through. It’s the same every trip. He’s come to accept that the time lost in airports is just a necessary evil, something to get through.

 

At least he doesn’t have to run. He should get to the gate just in time for boarding. It’s quite a hike though, the airport is huge. This is far more exercise than he’d like to be getting today and the constant drone of voices rushing past in all directions is doing nothing for his mood. It feels like a big American mall in here. Dan hates malls, there just big monuments to capitalism. So much wasted space filled with useless plastic junk and cheaply made decadence. He passes a Victoria’s Secret and a store that just sells massage chairs. There’s a very posh jewelry store and a shop filled with designer bags and key fobs. He wonders who drops two grand on a handbag at the airport until he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass case and remembers what he paid for his jumper. He picks up his pace, choosing to ignore the voice in his head that says he’s part of the problem. 

 

The gate is purgatory. Close quarters packed with people who would rather be somewhere else and bright unnatural lighting. It’s stifling and Dan wants nothing more than to move on. In a few minutes, the flight will board and he can finally relax. He’s got a guided meditation all queue up and some chamomile tea in his bag, ready to brew. With a deep sigh, he pulls out his phone to get his boarding pass ready. Just then, a notification from the airline pops up. Before he can read the whole thing, the announcement booms out all around him, a long list of cancelled flights, his included.  _ Shit. _

 

Cancelled due to inclement weather. That’s what the notification said, no follow up information, no instructions on what to do next. The website isn’t any help either. He glances around at the crowded room but everyone looks just as lost as he feels. He’s going to have to do the adult thing and actually ask for help. He’ll have to physically walk up to the counter and talk to an real human being, like its fucking 1985 or something. He flicks his hair from his eyes and takes his place in yet another queue.

 

Soon he’s listening while the guy in front of him demands to know why they didn’t predict it would snow so much and how come they can’t just fly  _ around  _ the storm. The agent shows far more patience than Dan would have, repeating her well worn speech, “We are so sorry for the inconvenience but it is very difficult to predict at this time. You’ll receive notification as soon as we know more.”

 

The man throws his hands up and Dan softens a bit, knowing the agent is having a much worse day than he is. 

 

“What a twat.” He says as he approaches the counter and she spares a thin smile. “I realize you can’t control or predict the weather but I’m wondering if this likely to be an overnight thing or a  _ booked on another flight in a few hours  _ thing?”

 

She gives Dan the same answer she gives everyone but he leans forward on his elbows. “Yeah I know, but like, if you  _ had  _ to predict how long we’ll be here...Like just between us.” He musters a sweet smile and an awkward wink that he wishes he could take back almost immediately. Before she can repeat herself again, he apologizes and slinks away. 

Dan is stood near the desk, hoping to catch any snippets of news that might come up. There’s nowhere to sit and crawling into a hole isn’t an option so standing will have to do for now. That’s when fate smiles upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement, someone gathering their things. Thrilled by the prospect of actually getting to sit down while he waits an undetermined amount of time, Dan makes a b line for the soon to be vacated seat. The previous occupant has barely stepped away when he swoops in, nearly colliding with someone who had the exact same plan. 

 

“Oi, sorry mate, I was eyeing this seat.” Dan says, standing his ground. 

 

“Yeah so was I, _ mate.”  _ He’s pale and lanky, his shoulders hunched over in a painful display of poor posture. He looks like he’s trying to be shorter. If he wants to blend in, he probably shouldn’t have worn a jumper that looks like a lady bird. Dan supposes he’s kinda cute, maybe a little hot, but sarcasm doesn’t look good on anyone. He’s not the least bit intimidating but he’s trying, lips curled up from the snark, wild brows raised. Those blue eyes are too dreamy to be shooting daggers like that.

 

Dan should look away, he should square his shoulders and pretend he is not to be messed with. This is a snowed in airport, the wild west, he should claim his territory. He doesn’t look away though, he can’t or he doesn’t want to. Whatever the case, his defenses are weakened along with his knees. 

 

“Actually, you take it.” He concedes, “I have too much nervous energy anyway.”

 

The guy drops the totally ineffective tough guy act. “No, no, it was a draw. Rock, paper, scissors?” 

 

Dan truly believes there are few conflicts in life that can’t be solved with rock, paper, scissors. They draw again and again, both of them laughing at how completely this strategy has failed. On the next 1, 2, 3, the guy pauses and his eyes wander to Dan’s left, his whole face softening. Dan turns to see what brought on such a change and  _ damn.  _ There goes his chance at a restful wait. Just behind Dan is a mum with a very heavy looking toddler crashed out on her shoulder. 

 

“Would you like to sit down?” The guy says sweetly, tripping over his luggage as he moves out of the way. Dan steps aside too and forces a smile though he’s pretty resentful. 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Thank you so much!” She looks about his age, like someone he could be friends with. He can’t imagine being stuck here with a child to care for. “Sorry, It’s been a long day.” She says and sits down with a sigh. Dan catches a glimpse of the angelic sleeping face on her shoulder and he’s over it. 

 

Resigned, he walks to the corner of the room and plops down on an empty patch of carpet, facing a big window overlooking the snowy runway. He searches for a hotel and is unsurprised to find every room in the vicinity booked. Headphones back in, he leans forward on the glass and watches the snow fall.

 

Time doesn’t follow the rules in airports, not when all the flights are delayed and most are cancelled and it’s late afternoon but people are curled up, asleep in chairs. Dan has changed positions roughly 43 times but his restless legs are still nagging him. Funny how being lazy only comes easy when it’s entirely inappropriate. 

 

Standing takes some work, his hips don’t want to straighten up and do the job they were built to do. He’s partially hunched, one hand on his lower back when he sees himself in the window. He looks like an old man, groaning as he pulls himself to stand and he makes a mental note to find a personal trainer when he gets home, and to stop standing near reflective surfaces.

 

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he shuffles toward the main corridor. The floor is dotted with people who have accepted the long wait ahead, setting up makeshift camps with laptops out and backpacks for pillows. Dan steps carefully through and heads in the opposite direction from how he came, hoping for something better and more interesting than what he found on his way in.

 

He’s been poised precariously at the edge of an emotional pit all day. Social exhaustion left him vulnerable and in need of time alone in his own space to refuel. That’s not something he’s gonna get right now so the best he can do is to keep busy, try to stave off boredom and loneliness before they spiral into something darker.

 

This side of the terminal has nearly the exact same upscale nonsense as the other side. Just when he thinks he might scream if he sees one more mannequin in resort wear, a beacon of hope appears. A bookstore, and not an Amazon store, or an airport newsstand but a real, honest to god book store. To be honest, he doesn’t really read much, but he wants to. A place like this is only going to attract certain people, people who think, who want more than the few best sellers available at the newsstand. 

 

It’s small in here, an airport version of a larger, local bookseller, but there are real shelves to walk through and quiet jazz playing. He wanders through the classics, pausing in poetry to pick something up and read a few lines to himself.  _...roused up from hole to itching head. Bodies locked shuddering naked, hot lips and buttocks screwed into each other.  _

 

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. He finishes that one and pages through to read a little more. 

 

“Hello again.” 

 

Dan nearly jumps out of his skin. He slams the book shut, shoving it onto the shelf haphazardly. Fighting the blush rushing to his face, he folds his arms, defensive. Ready to glare at whoever is to his left, to send a clear signal that he is not in the mood to chat. His head snaps around, eyes narrowed, then he sees him.  

 

“Allen Ginsberg, huh? Just a little light airport reading?” It’s him, the hot guy who gave up their seat for a tired mum. He laughs at his own joke before continuing. “He was always a little dark for me. Have you read D.A. Powell?”

 

Dan’s eyes are wide as he stammers out a thought. “No, I haven’t read anybody really. I just grabbed a random book. Not really a reader.”  _ Shut up Dan.  _ He knows he sounds like a dick.

 

“Well, fancy meeting you in a book store then.” This guy doesn’t seemed fazed by Dan’s weird outburst. “I hate these crowds, don’t you? Also hate being alone though. Just trying to find a happy medium I guess. You want some company?” He’s fidgeting now, nervous, but still doing it, still asking a complete stranger to hang out. 

 

“Oh um no. Thanks, I’m good, busy. Sorry.” The words stutter out even as Dan is arguing with himself internally. The guy looks a little deflated but he manages a smile before walking off. Dan has no idea why he said no, why he defeats himself like this again and again, why he’s not kinder to himself, even now.

 

He’s tired, from residual jet lag and from just living in his head all day. If he doesn’t get some caffeine soon, exhaustion will set in, adding to the dark cloud currently floating above his head. Anyway, if the caffeine doesn’t lift his spirits, coffee shops have a long and storied history for being great places to be sad and alone. 

 

***

 

There’s one free table. Dan sets his backpack on one of the chairs, ignoring the warning he’s been hearing all day to not leave his bags unattended. He pulls his reusable mug out and soon it’s filled with a steaming hot, mediocre latte. He puts his feet up, headphones in, and searches for an anime to catch up on. As the end credits roll on his third episode, he cracks his neck and looks around, stretching his arms above his head. There’s a long daunting line of people and behind, towering above everyone, a flash of jet black hair. 

 

Dan thinks maybe he was wrong about how big this terminal is because this guy just keeps popping up. He’s shivering, his hands wrapped tight around the coffee he just picked up and he’s scanning the room. God, he’s really good looking, and tall, no one is ever tall enough. There are no tables left, Dan knows that but he looks over his shoulder anyway. He should talk to him. How often in life do you get a second chance, much less a third? The guy’s eyes move from table to table until they land squarely on Dan. 

 

Dan wears a a thin, nervous smile but there’s some good solid eye contact. He is really proud of himself for that eye contact. He lifts his feet off the chair opposite him and sits up straight in his chair, gesturing an offer to sit. 

 

The guy looks the room over one more time and Dan doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t have made the best impression. He doesn’t try to hide his heavy, resigned sigh before weaving through the maze of tables to where Dan sits. 

 

“This is prime real estate. You sure you don’t want to sell it to the highest bidder?” His teeth are practically chattering as he speaks.

 

“I’m a socialist.” Dan says, sipping his latte.

 

“You’re in a Starbucks, mate.”

 

“I’m at an airport, I’m doing my best.” Dan watches him sit, searching his mind for something to say. It’s been ages since he flirted. Does he even want to flirt? All he knows is this guy is so cute and he’s the sort of person who gives up his seat to a tired mum. Dan’s not sure he even would have noticed her, lost as he’s been in his own mind. And he’s already proven himself patient with Dan’s bullshit.

 

“Um, Phil.” Dan says, reading the name written on Phil’s cup. “Your lips are a tad blue. Are you feeling ok?”

 

Phil takes a long drink from his cup, wincing because it’s still too hot. He rubs his lips together then cups his hands over his mouth and breathes into them, warming himself. “How do you know my name?”

 

Dan reaches over and taps the side of Phil’s cup. “Don’t change the subject. I’m genuinely concerned about your lips.”

 

“I have that effect on people. The moment you meet me, you start thinking about my lips.” Phil’s smirk hides behind his cup as he attempts to breathe in the warmth.

 

It takes Dan a moment to catch up. He sits staring for a solid three seconds before his eyes crinkle with surprised laughter. It’s the first laugh he’s heard from himself today, the first genuine laugh he’s heard in a while. He’s not totally aware of the way his shoulders drop but he arches his back, stretching again, surprised how much better it feels this time. 

 

“Also, it’s very cold outside.” Phil sits back in his chair now that the shivering has passed. 

 

“Outside?” Dan can’t fathom what he means but that but Phil just keeps drinking with a barely discernible nod.

 

“Like outside outside? Like where the snow is coming down and blowing sideways?” There is genuine concern in Dan’s voice.

 

“Yeah that’s the one.”

 

“Why did you have to go outside?”

 

“I didn’t have to. I had some time to kill so I made some snow angels.”

 

“Why?” Dan’s lip is curled in something that looks more like disgust than he intended.

 

“I like snow.” Phil says, unaffected. 

 

It’s mildly annoying the way he doesn’t see anything unusual about this scenario. Dan sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Ok, so your stranded in the airport for god knows how long and instead of getting a hotel or going to the bar, you went all the way outside, through security, to play in the snow?”

 

”I mean, I actually just went to  _ be  _ in the snow. Catch some flakes on my tongue, see the lights reflect off the white. It’s really settled out there. You can hardly tell it’s an airport loading zone, it’s looks so pretty.” Phil tilts his head as he speaks, looks to the window, even though it only looks out on the ugly airport corridor. 

 

“There were these little kids watching the snow through the window, they waved at me and I waved back. They had their noses pressed right up to the glass. I was pretending to slip and fall and all that and they were laughing. But then I actually fell, right on my bum. So I made a snow angel for them.” He stands and takes his jacket off, must be warming up a bit. “Just putting it out there, snow angels are the least fun thing to do. I got snow all up inside my jacket and my hands are frozen. Might not be dressed ideally for literally laying in the snow, my ass is soaked to the bone.” He laughs a little to himself as he sits and goes back to sipping. 

 

Dan’s mouth has dropped open a bit and he stares. He’s pretty sure Phil is the good kind of weird but he studies his features looking for signs to the contrary. All he finds are the prettiest lips and something oddly comforting in the dark centers of his eyes. 

Phil’s watching him too, just drinking his coffee and watching, wearing a coy little smile. It’s a reaction to his staring, either judgement or flirting or just a smug acknowledgment that Dan can’t or won’t look away.

 

The quiet should be unnerving. Dan has conditioned himself to fill every moment, with sound or image or information. It prevents him from ever really feeling alone, from being alone with his thoughts. It’s not unnerving though, he just feels, calm. He wonders what sort of break through he could have if he wasn’t so afraid of being in his head, if he let his mind wander. It’s then he realizes his mind is wandering now and maybe this is some sort of gentle breakthrough of it’s own.

 

“Where’d you go?” Phil asks. 

 

He hopes his expression hasn’t given away the micro crisis he’s having in his head. Pulled from his introspection, he smiles thinly.

 

“Sorry. I tend to drift off during awkward silences.”

 

“Awkward? I didn’t think it was awkward,” Phil says. “How often do you get to do nothing like this?”

 

Dan shrugs, a little guilty. So much of what he spends his time on feels like nothing.

 

“You know, you didn’t have to invite me to sit down. If I’m bothering you…”

 

“No, no. I’m sorry.” And he is sorry, really sorry. He wants to be friendly and flirty and easy to talk to. This guy is really sweet and cute and it’s not awkward, not even a little. Dan can’t explain why he always goes on the defense. 

 

“You aren’t bothering me. I’m just kind of a dick sometimes.” Dan heaves a breath, dredging up some courage and mumbles, “I’m actually really glad you showed up.” 

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Phil says with his hand to ear.

 

Dan rolls his eyes and quickly spits out, “I’m glad you showed up cuz I was really bored and we’ll probably be here all night and you’re really nice so thanks for not writing me off when I acted like a twat.”

 

“Which time?” Phil asks but he’s smiling. “You’re welcome.”

 

It goes quiet again and Phil stands suddenly. “Alright, we need sugar.” He walks off before Dan can protest. Normally, Dan would pick up his phone, cycle quickly through all his social media so he doesn’t miss anything. He gets as far as picking it up but it just sits in his hand unattended. His eyes are otherwise occupied, following Phil’s long legs as they carry him to the pastry case. They’re good legs, pretty legs that end in wide hips and a nice round ass. His lip has somehow found it’s way between his teeth when Phil glances back. There’s a beat before he realizes and looks away, rather conspicuously. 

 

When Phil returns, he hands Dan a snowman shaped cookie and makes a toast to snow.

 

Dan taps his cookie to Phil’s, “we’re toasting to snow? But that’s why we’re stuck here.” 

 

“Exactly.” Phil says like it’s obvious. Dan savagely rips the head off of his snowman then thanks Phil around his mouthful.

 

Phil laughs softly. “Ok, Dan. Snog, marry, avoid. Mario, Link, and… um, the king of all cosmos.”

 

“Excuse me, the king of what now?”

 

Phil’s eye grow wide, his mouth open in genuine shock. “The king of all cosmos? Do you even video game? Katamari Damacy?”

 

“Yeah I know, obviously.” Dan sinks down in his chair a bit. “Kill Mario, marry Link, fuck the king.”

 

“Really? You’d kill Mario. I could never do that after everything he’s done for me. Also he’s handy.” Phil takes another bite, speaking through crumbs that he wipes away with his fingers. “He’s literally a plumber. He could fix stuff around the house, total husband material.”

 

“Ok fair.” Dan says, “but Link is brave and humble, he’d be a great life partner. And I grew up with him. Also he’s left handed so we could both use the same scissors.”

 

“Wow. Nerd alert.” 

 

Dan sticks his leg out under the table to gently kick Phil’s leg. “Shut up, look who’s talking.” Dan’s voice goes high pitched, mocking. “Oh, Mario’s done so much for me.”

 

Phil laughs out loud, a proper laugh, head tipped back, hands clapped together. It’s a good, warm laugh that wraps Dan up like a blanket. Any remaining angst hanging on to the edges of his psyche lose their grip and all that’s left is an unfamiliar contentment. 

 

“Ok, ok, I think we’ve established we’re both massive nerds.” Phil says, popping the lid off his coffee and dipping his cookie in what’s left.

 

Dan is a man of extremes. When his guard comes down, it comes all the way down. 

 

“And who would you fuck Phil?” He’s hears his own voice in exaggerated slow motion as heat spreads across his cheeks. His palms are sweaty now, his stomach in his throat. What the hell did he just say?  _ This is why we can’t have nice things, Dan.  _

 

Phil seems to be considering his response, slowly sipping from his cup, his lips clearly fighting off a smirk. He catches Dan’s eyes and sucks his bottom lip for a drawn out moment before showing him mercy and moving on.

 

“Link, obvs.”

 

Dan clears his throat and tries to act natural. “But the king...that package.”

 

“I don’t know, I like someone a little younger, not so beefy.” Phil takes a moment then quickly adds, “I’m talking about like, young adult link. Of course.”

 

“Of course.” 

 

If Phil was trying to break the ice, it worked. The conversation flows easy after that. Dan could talk about video games all day, a topic just impersonal enough to loosen him up. Eventually he’s sharing some of his most embarrassing stories, stupid shit he did at uni and the time he got sacked from a DIY shop for selling an axe to a little kid. Phil laughs at every story and Dan is prepared to dig deep into the repressed corners of his mind if he can keep hearing that laugh. And it seems every story he tells earns him an equally embarrassing and far more amusing story from Phil. Dan is literally wiping away tears as Phil tells him all about a squirrel that bit him right in the Florida.

 

They both catch their breath when the laughter finally fades and they slip back into quiet. With nothing left to drink, it is a little awkward this time. Dan’s not sure what to do with his hands or where to rest his eyes. He checks his phone.

 

“No news?” Phil says to a quick shake of Dan’s head. “You want another round?”

 

“I think I’d better switch to herbal tea.” 

 

Phil moves to grab Dan’s mug but Dan stops him. “Let me. What’s your poison?”

 

“Caramel macchiato?” Phil says, a little sheepish and with a nod and as kind a smile as he can muster, Dan walks away.

 

“Sweets for the sweet.” Dan says as he sits down and hands Phil his drink. Their fingers brush as Phil takes the cup, his eyes looking softly into Dan’s. It seems Dan isn’t the only one who’s let his guard down. 

 

The table is small. They’ve both had their legs tucked back this whole time. As he scoots his chair in, Dan’s knees bump Phil’s and it’s clear he’s unfurled them into a more relaxed position. His instinct is to pull back but his body has proven to ignore his better judgement when it comes to this new variable. He lets his foot slide between Phil’s so their legs are slotted perfectly together. Neither of them acknowledge it, holding still to keep from touching more than incidentally. 

 

The conversation continues and they both open up more than makes sense for strangers in an airport. Nothing feels real anymore, time is suspended with no end in sight. Maybe it’s that or maybe it’s the relief of letting go a little bit or maybe it’s just Phil. Whatever the catalyst, Dan feels safe, not something he feels often.

 

Phil talks about his grandma, his brother, his failed attempts at heterosexuality. Dan’s topics are broader but the political is personal to Dan, and Phil seems to understand that. Time stretches and the nods turn thoughtful, the laughter sweeter. Moments of empathy are punctuated with bumps and nudges under the table. When the next lull comes, Phil shifts his weight. Dan watches as he lets his head lean to the wall next to his chair. His eyes look heavy.

 

“How can you be tired after all that sugary coffee?” Dan asks, shaking his head.

 

“Not tired,” Phil says, “just relaxed.” His legs follow the lean of his body, taking one of Dan’s with him. He hooks a foot around Dan’s ankle, coming to rest there.

 

Dan let’s one dimple peek out but he doesn’t move his gaze from Phil. “Comfy?” He asks, with a hint of mirth.

 

Phil nods, his crooked lips soft. “This is nice. And I’m enjoying the view.” 

 

Dan looks over his shoulder. Yep, hideous airport corridor, lots of grumpy people he’d forgotten about entirely. “What view? What are you on about? Are you aware that you often speak in riddles?”

 

“I don’t know.” Phil moves Dan’s leg under the table. “I feel like I’ve been pretty clear.”

 

Dan’s heart does a somersault and he huffs a nervous laugh. Nervous again after such an easy talk, but it’s a good nervous. The kind that comes from the promise of something good. 

 

Phil isn’t subtle, he wears a cocky grin that says he knows exactly what effect he’s having. Dan’s feels an urgent need to kiss the smile right off of that smug little mouth. He wants to grab the tip of Phil’s tongue that’s poking through his teeth and pull it. He imagines he’d taste like a coffee milkshake and his mouth waters at the thought. He could spring right across the table, charged as he is. Now they’ve stopped chatting, the energy between them just sits, an electric tether holding them there. 

 

Dan can’t help his mind going to the physical first, it’s not often he’s this open with anyone, much less someone he just met. Some piece of him wants to grab ahold of that hint of intimacy lest it get away. What he really wants is to just get closer, to wrap his arms around the beautiful friend he’s found and not let go.

 

Phil’s phone is vibrating on the table but he doesn’t notice, his focus is on Dan, gaze moving from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

 

“Brah, you’re blowing up.” Dan says in far too smitten a tone.

 

“Hmm? Oh!” Phil takes a quick peek and puts the phone to his ear. “Hi love. Nah, still here.” He stands, points to the exit to let Dan now he has to take the call, and walks out to lean against a wall of lockers.

 

To Dan’s credit, he doesn’t spiral right away. He starts silently rehearsing ways to ask for Phil’s number. He doesn’t even know where he lives, as deep as they got, they kinda bypassed the everyday stuff. Maybe he should just write his own number down and hand it to him. Except he definitely doesn’t have a pen because who carries a pen anymore? He could ask the barista but then they’d know and they’d be watching and it’s hard enough to be bold without an audience much less with one. 

 

He looks over his shoulder, trying to appear casual. Phil looks so cool leaning like that, beaming and chatting. Dan wonders who he’s talking to, someone close enough to call ‘love.’ It’s taking a while and he looks really happy. Dan realizes Phil never actually said he was single. Sure, he seemed interested but he was just looking to find some company for the wait. This is probably just what friendship looks like to Phil, socially awkward but strangely confident Phil. Of course he’s taken, he’s funny and smart and he listens. He probably has someone waiting for him, someone cool and quirky who reads poetry and plays Katamari Damacy with him. Someone who doesn’t wear plain black jumpers that cost hundreds of pounds even though they were made in China. They probably know he’s a flirt but they don’t care because he’s coming home to them. 

 

“Sir,” There’s a barista standing at the table. Dan has no idea how long he was lost in thought, ignoring her. “So sorry but we will be closing up in about 5 minutes.”

 

“Yeah, ok.” Dan stammers, embarrassed as always. “We’ll, I’ll clear out. Sorry. Thanks.”

 

She takes the trash from the table and Dan pulls on his hoodie and backpack. He throws Phil’s jacket over his arm and grabs the handle of his suitcase, rolling it behind him. Phil is humming affirmative responses to whoever is on the line but not talking much. He takes his jacket from Dan with a smile of thanks and a roll of his eyes. He mouths the word  _ sorry. _

 

Dan waves the word away. He mumbles something about needing to find a place to get some rest though he knows Phil can’t hear. The only thing worse than walking away from this well of potential would be to stand here and fidget, listening while Phil talks with his boyfriend only to have to say an awkward goodbye afterward. He points over Phil’s shoulder at nothing in particular and Phil sort of nods though he looks confused. Dan’s heart has no right to crack like this. He barely knows Phil. That tether though, it’s got some strength to it. He swallows hard and walks past Phil then just keeps walking. He just keeps walking, waiting for the tether to snap. 

 

He turns the first corner he comes to and finds a lounge. People are curled up asleep on the benches. The sound on the tv is muted. He moves to the far back corner and lays down on the floor, resting his head on his back pack. His headphones are in, a movie queued up on his phone, he’s right back where he started. At least he got to pass the time with someone. It was a nice moment out of reality. So he was attracted to him, it’s not a big deal. He’s attracted to people all the time, it never goes anywhere. There’s no reason it should be different this time, no reason he should feel a dull ache in his chest. It’s totally irrational and unrealistic to think that anything could come of a random meeting like that. It was just a few hours with a friendly stranger. 

 

Twenty minutes later, just when he’s settled into a position that is almost comfortable, the movie pauses and notification pops up. Dan has been booked on a new flight and if he wants the seat he needs to check in at the gate, like now. 

 

The waiting area is still full but the settled resignation of earlier in the day has turned to frustrated exhaustion. Blurry eyed travelers stand, gripping their phones, close to the counter, watching for some glimmer of hope that they’ll get home soon. The paper boarding pass in Dan’s hand feel like a winning lottery ticket and he tightens his hold, imagining the vultures who would swoop in if he were to drop it. He knows it’s irrational, he’s booked, the seat is his but he feels undeserving in light of all these folks waiting. He’s looking down, embarrassed at his good fortune, as he turns to find a place to waiting for boarding. 

 

Two steps forward and he hears him, “Are you kidding me? You’re on this flight?” It’s Phil and he sounds none too pleased to have run into Dan once again. 

 

“Oh hey Phil.”

 

“Hey Phil?!” Phil sounds angry now, his voice low and controlled, “Are you mental?”

 

That stings. He could deflect, point out the problematic nature of Phil’s choice of language, but he stays quiet.

 

“That was bloody rude. I thought you’d gone to find a place to sit but I turned around and you were gone. You could have said a proper goodbye.”

 

“You were on the phone.” Dan’s stomach feels sour at the sound of his own voice, his own immature, cowardly voice.

 

“Yeah. I was.” Phil’s eyes are right on Dan but he doesn’t meet his gaze, he’s staring at Phil’s shoes. His voice softens, “I was really excited Dan. We have a lot in common and I was gonna get your number and like, you just left.”

 

“Well, it’s not like you came to find me.” Dan really wishes he would shut up and stop sabotaging every good thing that happens to him.

 

“Came to find you!” It comes out loud, clearly louder than Phil intended as he looks around and clears his throat before speaking again, this time in a loud whisper. “You chatted me up for hours, flirting with me, letting me flirt with you and then left when I was on the phone so you didn’t have to deal with rejecting me!”

 

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet then.” Dan says, defeated, “So why bother confronting me?”

 

“Because I had a good time, Dan. I really did. A better time than I had any right to with a total stranger.” Phil runs a hand through his hair. 

 

He does that when he’s frustrated or nervous. He fidgets, he can’t stand still. Dan knows this about him, he learned it along with the fact like he likes his coffee unreasonably sweet and has a stupidly high tolerance for caffeine. He learned that he sticks his tongue between his teeth when he’s delighted and that he’s delighted a lot. He knows that he’s flirty and confident even though he’s clumsy and messy and has a really weird sense of humor. He knows that his weird brand of conversation meshes with Dan’s uncommonly well. He knows he’s unashamed. He’s a lot of things Dan isn’t and the lump in Dan’s throat is rudely pushing him to face the fact that Phil never would have ditched Dan like that.

 

Dan swallows hard. “Ok yeah, you’re right. It was really fucking rude of me to leave. I’m sorry. But I wasn’t avoiding rejecting you.” He heaves a sigh, hoping the force of it will push the words out. “I was avoiding being rejected by you.”

 

“What? I was so into you. How was that not obvious, Dan?”

 

Dan shrugs and mumbles something about a boyfriend on the phone.

 

Phil laughs a laugh that’s not at all amused. “That phone call was my friend Louise.” He says flatly, “She literally had a baby today. A fucking baby, Dan. I couldn’t bloody well cut her off in the middle of her birth story.” He flicks fingers through his quiff, laying it down and then picking it back up. “Stomach churning as it was.”

 

Dan feels sick. He wonders how long he’s going to let his negative self talk make him miserable. He knows there are things he has to forgive in himself, that he can’t help some of it. But he also know the parts of him he hides behind and he wonders how much his low self esteem would improve if he stopped leaning on it like a crutch. His eyes sting, embarrassment and exhaustion are making all of this seem insurmountable.

 

“I’m really sorry Phil.” He tries to look at Phil but turns his head, too aware of his wet eyes. “I got scared and I didn’t think I had a chance with you. I fuck these things up, I told you.”

 

With a moment of static, first class boarding is announced. 

 

“That’s me, Dan. I have to board.” Phil doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired. “This has been a weird day. We were strangers yesterday. But I know a few things about you now and since we’re standing here, fighting like boyfriends, I’m gonna go ahead and overstep one more time.” He reaches a hand to lay it on Dan’s arm. “It’s a heavy weight you carry around with you. I know how that is, Dan. And I’m telling you from experience, life is so much more enjoyable if you let someone else help you carry it once in a while.”

 

With that, he turns and walks to the doors, hands his boarding pass to the attendant, and disappears down the jetway.

 

Dan wipes his eyes before they can betray him with actual tears. 

 

***

 

Sipping his subpar whisky sour, Dan let’s the soothing voice in his ears guide him through step by step relaxation. His legs are heavy and relaxed, the only thing he has to do right now is breathe.  _ In for a count of 5, out for a count of 8, in for a count of 5, out for a count of 8. With every inhale, soft blue healing light spreads through your body. What color is your blue? The color of the sky? The sea? Phil’s eyes. Definitely Phil’s eyes.  _ Dan shifts in his seat, shaking his head as if to dislodge the image from his mind. He takes a long drink of his cocktail, heaves a breath and tries again. 

 

It’s time to get over it. Soon, he’ll be home and settled back to his routine, alone in his flat, back to real life. He tries to do to follow the voice, to do the breathing thing.  _ When a thought enters your mind, acknowledge it, without judgement and let it go.  _ There are a million thoughts in his mind and a million judgements.  _ That was a dick move. He was really great and you just ditched him. Why are you such a coward? You can stop thinking about him now.  _

 

With a rather violent jab of his finger, he quits the app, switching to music. He shoots back the rest of his drink and closes his eyes but regret gnaws at him until his stomach is an empty pit, twisting a constant reminder that he’s lost something.

 

He’d walked past Phil’s row on his way to his seat, carefully avoiding eye contact. He looked sad, this would be easier if he’d stayed angry. At the risk of looking like a dejected lover in a romantic comedy, he makes the rash decision to go talk to Phil. Before he thinks too deeply, he throws off his seatbelt and moves to stand, only to find himself face to face with a stern looking flight attendant.

 

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll need you to take your seat. With this turbulence, we have to ask that you stay seated and buckled for the duration of the flight or until the safety light is switched off.”

 

“Oh, um. My friend is in first class and he gets really frightened on planes.” He searches his mind for a story that will elicit some sympathy. “I’m really worried about him with this turbulence. Can I just go check on him please?”

 

“I’m afraid not, sir. I apologize but it’s for everyone’s safety.”

 

Dan presses his lips together, accepting his fate but just as she walks away, he speaks up again, “Oh, excuse me.” She turns with a forced hospitable grin and looks at Dan expectantly. “What about a drink? Can I buy him a drink? Send it to his seat. His name’s Phil, third row window seat, handsome, black hair.”

 

“If he’s in first class, his drinks are complimentary, sir.”

 

“Oh.” Dan looks down at his hands. “Then can you just bring him one? Say it’s from Dan?”

 

There’s a long exhale that reveals just how long her night has been before she nods gently and says, “What sort of drink did you have in mind?”

 

“Do you have hot chocolate?” Dan smiles up at her, grateful for her patience. His dimples really do come in handy at moments like this. 

 

A tiny smile blooms on her overworked face and she leans in a bit closer, “Ok, hot chocolate from Dan. I’ll bring him an extra blanket too.”

 

With his hand to his heart, he thanks her, it means it more than she could know. The next thing he’s aware of is the same flight attendant’s hand on his shoulder, waking him up. The flight is descending and he needs to turn off his electronics. 

 

By the time he’s shuffling down the aisle, first class has long since departed. Dan walks quickly, ready to be done with airports and travel and new people and places. He’ll get a car, headphones in, and soon he’ll be curled up in bed. He can sleep all day. There’s nothing he’s late for, no one waiting for him.

 

It’s terribly bright outside and Dan is personally insulted. He was counting on London gloom to validate his mood. He pauses next to the taxi queue, eyes on his phone, music in his ears, calculating the benefit of getting an Uber over jumping into one of these waiting cabs. 

 

“Dan!”

 

“What the fuck!” Dan jumps, his heart races off down the road without him and he pulls his headphones off. 

 

Phil giggles behind his hand. His other, on Dan’s shoulder, is warm and heavy and works wonders to calm Dan’s flight or flight freak out. 

 

“Sorry. I said hi like three times.” Phil says, trying to curb his laughter. “Maybe you should turn your music down, mate.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” He’s reeling from exhaustion and emotional whiplash. 

 

“Thanks for the hot chocolate. And the blanket.” He moves to rub the back of his neck in a classic display of Phil nerves. 

 

“No problem. Hope it made your first class seat tolerable, you poor soul.” 

 

“Hey.” Phil’s smile is so subtle it’s barely there, his eyes fixed on Dan’s, “I like nice things.”

 

They stay like that, inches apart, just looking at one another. It’s freezing out here but neither of them can feel it. 

 

“You wanna share a car? I’m in north London.” Phil hasn’t looked away, he sounds like he’s talking to himself, his voice quiet and directed nowhere in particular. Dan nods and they both turn. The guy managing the line ushers them into a cab, taking Phil’s luggage and Phil gives the driver his address. It makes sense for Dan to be dropped off first but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to be the one walking away this time. 

 

“Did you have a good flight?” Phil asks, small talk seems the only way out of this tension.

 

“It was ok. You?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, first class.” Phil worries his lip and Dan can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the unknowns and the regret and the stupid magnetic attraction he feels toward this person. He’s looking right at Phil’s mouth, it must be so obvious, and he’s telling himself,  _ do it, just do it.  _ His heart is in his throat, his stomach in knots, sensations that usually elicit a firm nope from Dan. His stock reaction to this fear is to run but he can’t run, they’re in the back of a taxi right now. If Phil pushes him away, he’ll just get out and take a bus. Dan’s breath is coming out in huffs, still watching Phil’s pink mouth as his lip slips free of his teeth.

 

A hand comes to rest on Dan’s leg, just above his knee. He startles a little and his eyes jerk quickly down to make sure he didn’t imagine it. The tether is taught, it’s either gonna break or he needs to grab hold of it and pull, hard.

 

So he does. 

 

He leans forward too fast, his lips collide with Phil’s too forcefully, but Phil slides his hand behind Dan’s neck and leans into him till they find a perfect balance. Soft but urgent, they push against each other, Phil’s tongue dipping in between Dan’s teeth. Just enough to connect them but with room for so much more. They move with each other, unhurried until they feel the car pull to the curb and hear the driver clear his throat. 

 

“One second.” Phil says as they pull apart, “let me get my bag.” He hands the driver his card and opens his door, climbing out to wait for his luggage to be retrieved from the boot. Dan gets his phone out and sets up a contact for Phil to fill in. He leans into the open door but before he can speak, Phil crouches down.

 

“You coming?”

 

“Sorry?” Dan replies.

 

“Are you coming up?” Phil always seem to think people just know what he’s talking about.

 

“Up? To your flat?”

 

Phil nods, “Everytime I lose sight of you, you run off. I think I’d like to keep you close if it’s all the same to you.”

 

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

 

“Yeah, and so do you.” Phil says, matter factly, “So come sleep. With me.”

 

Dan could honestly say that nothing has ever sound better.

 

*****

 

It’s been a long time since he woke up next to a stranger. It’s been a long time since he woke up next to anyone, unless you count Colin, Dan’s family’s dog who shared his bed when he went home for Christmas. It’s a little alarming at first, feeling an arm draped over his middle as he makes the slow climb to consciousness. Reality sets in as his eyes blink open and survey unfamiliar surroundings. The room is unmistakably Phil, the plants, the books, the sentimental trinkets. It’s welcoming and homey, this is exactly how Dan would have pictured Phil’s room. It is odd to feel like he knows this stranger so well. He’s not a stranger though, not really. 

 

Gently, Dan lays his hand over the one resting against his belly. The body behind him is solid, pressed up tight. There’s so much intimacy in spooning. He closes his eyes, willfully rejecting any evidence of daytime that might be streaming through the window. He wishes it would snow now, right here in London; a wild, never before seen blizzard that would strand him here in this flat. The whole city would shut down, lives would be disrupted, but it all sounds worth it if it meant he could stay here just a little while longer. Maybe if he’s very still, his big spoon won’t wake up. He really hopes he doesn’t. If he wakes up, they’ll both be thrust out of the liminal space where they found each other and into purpose and schedules and wretched real life. 

 

There’s a sleepy huff of a breath against his neck, and the arm around him pulls tighter for a moment. It might just be his dire need for human connection but this feels so good, being held like this. He wants to turn over so he can look at his face, nuzzle into his neck, wrap his arms around him, but he won’t risk bringing all of this to an end.

 

“You’re warm.” Phil’s voice is a low rumble against Dan’s back. It reminds him of the furnace coming on in the early mornings when he was kid, the promise of comfort that would stay even when he threw the blankets off. “What time is it?”

 

“Almost 2.” Dan says after reaching to the bedside to tip his phone into view.

 

Phil hums his acknowledgment and snuggles in closer, inhaling deeply with his nose tucked into the short hairs at the back of Dan’s head. “You smell like my shampoo.”

 

Dan is still but for his fingers. They push between the one’s underneath them and curl around to ensure that hand is staying put. 

 

“Do you need to get up?” There’s a squeeze in his heart as he asks until he senses Phil shaking his head no behind him. 

 

“Don’t go.” Phil says, so quietly it takes Dan a second to register. “It’s not enough yet.”

 

“Not enough sleep?” Dan asks.

 

“Just not enough.” Phil says and Dan feels a quick, soft kiss on the back of his neck.

 

“Go back to sleep, Phil,” Dan replies, calm spreading over him, a lightness he hasn’t experienced in so many years. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Soon, the embrace isn’t quite so tight and the breathing behind Dan is slow and steady. Sleep won’t come back so quickly for Dan, it’s just not how he operates. The sound of Phil breathing becomes a meditative soundtrack and he replays the last 24 hours, finding the moments, committing the details to a deeper place in his memory. There’s a small voice in his head that says he’ll want to tell this story later. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr Click [@allthephils](http://www.allthephils.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, reblogs are so appreciated. You can do that Click [here](http://allthephils.tumblr.com/post/182418360885/you-were-only-waiting)


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